


Just a Girl

by miss_begonia



Category: The OC
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-07
Updated: 2012-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_begonia/pseuds/miss_begonia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ventura was the place to be. It was beautiful. Warm weather, ocean views, good, low-key people. Ryan didn’t like to sound like the fucking tourism bureau, but it was a nice town. Plus it had two principle virtues in his mind:</p><p>It wasn’t Chino, and it wasn’t Newport.</p><p>Case closed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Girl

There was dust in his hair, dirt on his shoes and smoke in his lungs.

It felt wonderful.

He stubbed his cigarette out on the pavement with the toe of his boot, enjoying the summer breeze. The smell of fresh donuts wafted through the air and into his nostrils, the sounds of raised voices and clanking and grinding and drilling and buzzing filling his ears.

Ryan had always been a fan of real work – get your hands dirty and blistered kind of work. He never quite saw himself behind a desk, suit and tie, nine to five, the whole deal. He liked working construction because it required the use of his whole body, straining muscles lifting heavy objects, pushing and pulling and digging. It was all-encompassing. No time to fuck around, to make mistakes, to play games.

No time to think.

Ventura was the place to be. It was beautiful. Warm weather, ocean views, good, low-key people. Ryan didn’t like to sound like the fucking tourism bureau, but it was a nice town. Plus it had two principle virtues in his mind:

It wasn’t Chino, and it wasn’t Newport.

Case closed.

He slipped his hard hat on and wandered over to join several men standing around near a large piece of scaffolding, taking a breather. “Hey, Atwood,” one burly man named Max shouted at him over the noise of a bulldozer rumbling nearby, “you comin’ out for drinks?”

“Tonight?” he asked, squinting up at him, the sun making him feel unsteady on his feet.

“Kid isn’t legal, Max,” Buddy Daniels said, nudging his friend. “You forget?”

“So we’ll buy him a couple,” Max shrugged. “Big fuckin’ deal.”

“Atwood can take it,” Randy Marlboro said, then spit into the dirt. Ryan wrinkled his nose in disgust, but turned away so they didn’t see it.

“So what d’ya say?” Buddy asked, slapping him on the back so hard he almost lost his balance. “After we clock out, you wanna go hang with us old folks?”

Ryan half-smiled. “Sure.”

“Good man,” Max said. “Good man.”

 

“You _what_?”

Ryan was laughing so hard he couldn’t breathe. “Hold on. Hold on.”

“Atwood is gone, man. How many beers we had?”

“Uh…six?” Max leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Dunno.”

“So finish the fuckin’ story.”

“I’m sorry,” Ryan apologized. He had finally collected himself. “So Seth and I had this beef with these water polo players, and I had been hitting on this guy Luke’s girlfriend – “

“You were in the town what, one day?” Buddy raised his eyebrows. “You work your magic fast, huh?”

“She lived next door to Seth, and I just happened to meet her –“

“So she was this guy Seth’s girl-next-door and he never made a move on her?” Max interrupted. “Either this Marissa isn’t nearly as hot as you made her sound, or Seth is gay.”

“Seth isn’t gay, he had a girlfriend named – “ Ryan stopped.

The three men, who had been lazily throwing back their beers, all focused their eyes on Ryan.

“What’s up, Newport?” Randy said. “You gonna be sick? Already?”

“No, I – “ Ryan pushed his chair away from the table and stood up, stumbling slightly. “I’ll be back.”

As he walked off in the direction of the bathroom, he could hear Max mumble under his breath, “I like that Atwood kid, but he’s a little…uh…”

“Yeah,” Buddy said. “I know what you mean.”

Ryan pushed open the door of the men’s room and made a beeline for the sink, turning on the faucet and splashing water on his face. He noticed he was flushed – the beers must have been getting to him after all. He’d built up a fair tolerance in Chino, but he guessed his clean and sober streak in Newport and destroyed all that.

For the last half hour or so, things had been pretty good. He felt relaxed around those guys, just shooting the shit, knowing they wouldn’t judge him because he was originally from Chino, or because he’d tried to steal a car and been locked up. They seemed genuinely interested in knowing about Newport Beach, where “all them rich bitches live,” as Buddy had put it so eloquently.

But the second Ryan started talking about Seth and Marissa, he realized just how much he missed them. The last few days he’d woken up to his alarm buzzing at six am and actually been disappointed that Seth wasn’t barging in with news about the latest development in his always tumultuous love life. Crazy. And even though he and Marissa hadn’t been dating for more than a year now, he missed seeing her around, chatting with her, talking about everything and nothing. It had taken a lot of melodrama and soap operatics, but he and Marissa were finally developing an actual friendship.

And now he’d fucked all that up, left it behind. All because of _her._

Ryan ran his hand through his hair roughly, smoothing it down with water. The color in his cheeks had disappeared; now he was a sickly white. He swallowed and rubbed at his eyes, then blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the nausea that washed over him.

 _You can do this,_ he told himself.

 _She’s just a girl._

He made his way over to the table where Randy, Buddy and Max sat, laughing heartily over a story that Buddy was telling. Judging from the gestures he was making with his hands, it involved a woman, and a curvy one at that.

He sat down across from Buddy and gave them a weak smile.

“You okay?” Max asked, concerned.

“Just tired. I’m fine,” he said. “Maybe no more beer tonight.”

“Good idea,” Buddy said, ruffling his hair affectionately. These guys, all of them middle-aged, treated him a bit like he was their son, and he kind of liked it. But when Buddy mussed his hair it reminded him of Sandy, who liked to throw thoroughly embarrassing comments his way and then tousle his hair when he blushed.

Here he was, miles away from Newport, but he couldn’t escape it. Not when the people he loved were scrawled all over his conscience.

“So finish your story,” Randy said impatiently. “You were talkin’ ‘bout that chick Marissa and her dick boyfriend…”

“Yeah, so me and Seth tried to sneak by him at the restaurant, but Seth tripped over something and made a noise and so they saw us,” Ryan said. “So he was making fun of me, saying ‘You’re kinda far from 8 mile’, and all this shit – “

Max hooted, and Randy and Buddy grinned.

“So I said, ‘You know what I like about rich kids? And then I punched him in the face and said…”

 

 _“You’re such a dork.”_

 _She slipped her arms around his waist and pressed her face into his bare back. He could feel her eyelashes flicking over his heated skin._

 _“Why am I such a dork?” he asked._

 _“Because you do **this** ,” she said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You **iron.** ”_

 _He set down the iron and adjusted the shirt to get a better angle. “I have an interview tomorrow at Berkeley. I need to look nice.”_

 _“Chino, you live with, like, the richest family in the county. I am sure they pay someone to do things like this.”_

 _“Yeah, but I don’t like to give her any extra work,” he remarked._

 _“Well, I’m okay with it,” she said, sliding her hands over his chest, skimming her fingernails over his nipples. He inhaled sharply. “But only because you’re doing it shirtless.”_

 _“It’s hot!” he said defensively._

 _“And did I say I minded?” She pulled him around so he was facing her. Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, her lips turned up in a flirtatious smile. “I don’t mind at all.”_

 _He allowed his eyes a moment to drink her in – tiny blue bikini top contrasting with flushed, tanned skin, blue terry-cloth mini skirt pulled down just far enough for him to see the strings of her bikini bottom. Her dark hair fell in waves over her shoulders, and she brushed a strand out of her chocolate brown eyes as they searched his own. “You look beautiful,” he told her._

 _“I know,” she said, her smile widening into a grin. “You’re not so bad yourself.”_

 _“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow._

 _She smacked him on the shoulder. “No need to get cocky, Chino. Just because you look…” her eyes trailed over his chest and lingered meaningfully just below the waist of his jeans, “…edible doesn’t mean you get to be all egotistical…”_

 _He reached out and brushed a finger over her cheekbone, his other hand clasping her around the waist. “That’s what I like about you, Summer,” he said wryly. “You keep me humble.”_

 _“Mmm…” She kissed his finger, the tip of her tongue barely brushing it, and he felt charged current climb his spine. “I do like you humble…”_

 _The hand around her waist curled tighter as he brought her flush against him, his bare chest pressed against her minimally covered breasts. He leaned down and pressed kisses along her neck, his tongue sweeping over the curves of her collarbone. She shivered against him, her hands caressing his shoulders._

 _“Such a tease,” she whispered, and bit him lightly on his shoulder. When he looked up at her with wide blue eyes, she caught his lower lip between her teeth, sucking softly, then ran her tongue over his lip. Instantly they were kissing in earnest, tongues tangling with one another, lips pressed together with urgent need. His hand found its way under her skirt and cupped her ass, one finger slipping beneath the fabric of her bikini. A gasp escaped her throat, and when they broke apart his eyes were shining with amusement. She pushed him lightly, and he laughed._

 _“I don’t know, Summer,” he murmured, holding her gaze. “I think maybe you like the teasing…”_

 _“Maybe I do,” she said. Her eyes were glittering with desire. “But maybe I like this more.” She pushed him, hard, and he fell backwards onto the bed. She climbed onto him and straddled his chest, leaning down to kiss him until his brain could no longer form actual thoughts._

 _“Maybe I like this more, too…” he breathed, and when she drew back to look at him, she was smiling._

 

When Ryan pushed open the door of his apartment later that night, his phone was ringing.

“Hello?” he said, picking up the phone and dropping a bag of groceries onto the kitchen counter.

“Ryan! You’re there!”

He collapsed into the one ratty chair in his one room apartment. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to see how you’re doing, man,” Seth said. He sounded beyond excited. Ecstatic. Ryan’s chest began to hurt.

“I’m fine,” he said shortly.

“You got everything you need there? I mean, I know you have clothes and such, but you have, like, paper towels and food and stuff like that, right? Because we could – “

“Seth, they do have grocery stores here,” he said.

“Yeah, you are so right. I’m sorry. I’m just…uh, I don’t know. So you are okay?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. Dude, it is so boring here without you. No joke. I’m thinkin’ Portland is sounding pretty good right about now. Luke is still there, I think. I could totally go out there and teach sailing again – “

“You could teach sailing in Newport.”

“I am teaching sailing in Newport. That’s not the point. The point is that everyone in this fucking town sucks, and if I see another Chanel diaper bag I seriously might kill someone. So if you see any articles in the Ventura Times-Register or whatever about a college-bound rich kid who went insane and stabbed a random man in South Coast Plaza, you’ll know who it is.”

“Good to know.”

“So the construction business is good?”

Ryan flicked on the beat-up television set he had carefully balanced on a plastic milk crate. “It’s fine.”

“Everything’s fine, huh? You want to pick a few different adjectives, just to change it up a bit?”

Ryan was silent.

Seth sighed. “I’m sorry, dude. I’m just trying to…I don’t know. I feel like I don’t even know who you are anymore. I mean, you just take off one day and you leave me this note that says you’ll see me at Berkeley in the fall. What the fuck is that?” Seth sounded like he was struggling to keep the anger out of his voice. “The summer after senior year and you ditch me to go work construction up the coast a hundred miles away? Can you at least try to help me understand?”

“I…don’t really understand it myself,” Ryan said honestly. It’d been almost a month, but every time Seth called their conversations were the same. Their relationship was like a scratched record that always skipped – they were stuck in a groove, going round and round in circles.

“But that’s not good enough, Ry. I mean, I love you, dude, and you’re my brother, but you can’t just take off like that and expect everybody to be okay with it – “

Ryan’s heart clenched at _I love you, dude, and you’re my brother._ “Seth, I – “

“No, look, you don’t have to make something up or whatever. Just think on it and get back to me whenever you’re ready. Because whatever you’re going through, I want to help. You’ve had my back for all these years and I want to, like, do what I can for you. You don’t make it easy, dude, the way you go away every time you have some major trauma…”

“I know, Seth.” Ryan sighed.

“But you know what I mean.”

“Yeah.”

There was a short pause, and Ryan knew he was waiting for him to say something else, something reassuring. But Ryan had no words of comfort to give, not this time.

He was done with lying. The secrets he had were his to keep, but he wasn’t about to dig himself in deeper by piling deception on top of deceit and dishonesty. It was over. Done. Finished. And he was sticking to it this time.

Even if it hurt like hell.

 _She’s just a girl. Just a girl._

 _Let it go. Let her go._

“Ryan? You still there?”

Ryan blinked. “Yeah, man. I’m sorry. It’s been a long day. I’m kinda wiped.”

“Cool, cool, man, I understand. I’ll let you get some rest. Give me a call when you get a chance, okay?”

“Sure.” Ryan used the hem of his t-shirt to wipe a streak of sweat off his forehead. There was no AC in his apartment and the summer heat was pretty unforgiving. But he guessed he probably deserved to feel like this anyway.

Burned.

“Take care of yourself, dude. Seriously.”

“Thanks, man. You too.”

He waited until he heard the dial tone to hang up. He didn’t know why, but he wanted Seth to go first.

He closed his eyes, letting the portable phone fall to the floor with a clatter.

He wished leaving Newport could be as easy as hanging up the phone – one click and you are cut off. But he knew that was idiotic. You can’t shed memories like layers of clothes. Memories are more like layers of skin. Shedding them involves a painful peeling and stripping process that leaves you feeling vulnerable, naked, raw.

And it didn’t help that Ryan wasn’t sure he wanted to let those memories go.

Especially since they were all he had left.

 

Ryan was drunk.

At least, he thought he was. In his experience, if you _knew_ you were drunk, you hadn’t quite gotten there yet. When you were completely wasted, then you thought you _weren’t_ drunk, because you were so far gone that you thought everything was normal.

He wasn’t there yet, but he had every intention of getting there before the night was over.

He inhaled deeply on his cigarette and coughed when he held in the smoke too long. He’d only recently picked up smoking again, and sometimes he forgot this. Especially when he’d had six beers and three shots of Jack Daniels.

“What’s your name?”

Ryan glanced up to see a tall, slim brunette walking over to him. She wore a denim skirt so short her private parts were almost on public display, and a cropped top that showcased her cleavage. She wasn’t stacked, but she wasn’t flat-chested, either. A happy medium.

Yeah, she was hot. And he knew it wasn’t just the drink talking. Though at this point he’d probably listen to whatever the drink was telling him.

“You got a light?” she asked. She brought a cigarette up to her lips, and he leaned in to light it with his own, bringing them so close their noses almost touched. When he pulled back he could see a message written loud and clear in her dark brown eyes.

 _I want you to fuck me._

“So do you have a name?” she asked, her lips curving into a predatory smile.

“Ryan,” he said. “But you can call me Chino.”

He wanted to believe this was the drink talking, too, but he knew that was bullshit. The bottom line was that if he was going to screw somebody tonight, he wanted her to call him that.

He’d be thinking about Summer anyway, but this just made it easier to believe the fantasy.

“Chino, huh?” She wrinkled her nose. “Like that town down in –“

“It’s just a nickname,” he cut her off.

She shrugged. “Alright then. Chino it is.”

He smiled.

“You don’t talk much, huh?” she said, exhaling smoke and stubbing her cigarette out on the cement.

He shook his head. He didn’t really feel like talking to anybody. Not to her, anyway.

“That’s okay,” she conceded, as if he’d just admitted to running over small animals in his spare time, just for fun. “Most of what people say is stupid shit anyway.”

He stubbed out his cigarette and turned towards her, letting his eyes slide up and down her body. “So where are you from?”

“Around,” she gestured with her hands vaguely. “Nearby here. Nowhere interesting. You?”

“Wherever you want me to be from,” he murmured, his eyes flicking up to meet hers, holding her gaze just long enough to make her exhale a shaky breath.

“O-okay…” she stuttered, and he could see her confidence faltering. This was a critical moment – where he convinced her he was more sexy mysterious than he was sketchy.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and her eyes widened in surprise.

“Thank you…” she whispered back, and the second the words left her mouth he was kissing her, tasting the smoke and liquor on her lips.

 _You can take the boy out of Chino…_

She seemed too stunned to kiss back at first, having had control wrested from her so suddenly, but when he skimmed his fingers over her back, trailing callused fingers over the bare skin just above her waist, she gave in, pushing against him and thrusting her tongue into his mouth.

He brushed his thumbs over the smooth skin of her stomach, slipping them under the fabric of her tank top, stopping just shy of her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra – the straps of her top were too thin – but he thought he’d better wait to work his way upwards or downwards, not wanting her to freak and push him away.

She slipped her leg between his and ground against him, and his cock instantly hardened from the contact. She pressed the palm of her hand over the crotch of his jeans and he thrust up into her hand, sucking on her tongue until she whimpered. He slid his hands up over the back of her thighs, caressing the sensitive skin of her inner thighs with a light touch, then grabbed her ass and pulled her against him.

“Chino,” she gasped, “don’t…stop…”

He realized then that he didn’t know her name – he’d never asked for it.

And then, through the muddle of his very alcohol-influenced brain, he realized just how _wrong_ this really was.

She was kissing his neck and licking his skin in a way that made it very hard to push her away. But he did.

Because he was a fucking idiot. Clearly.

“I’m sorry,” he said when she looked at him with hurt eyes still bright with desire. “I can’t do this…”

She pulled down her tank top in an effort to cover herself up but only succeeded in revealing more of her breasts, a situation Ryan would have found really humorous if he didn’t already feel like a total dick. “You know what?” she spat, her eyes flashing with anger. “Fuck you, Chino.”

As he watched her stalk away, he thought that she hadn’t really reminded him of Summer until that final moment.

 

 _“So…no feelings.”_

 _Ryan brushed a strand of hair out of Summer’s eyes. Her hair was a mess – tangled from him running his hands through it while they kissed, tousled from her thrashing around on her pillow as he traced circles over her clit with his tongue. “No feelings,” he murmured._

 _It was their mantra, ever since they’d first spontaneously combusted the night they got together to work on a comp lit project for AP English. If Ryan ever wanted to attribute responsibility to anyone for the biggest heartache of his life, he could always blame Mr. Peterman._

 _He figured it was pretty safe to say that **Crime and Punishment**? Had never been so hot._

 _The no-feelings pact had been agreed upon because both Summer and Ryan had come to the bitter conclusion that love was a bitch best avoided at all costs. Summer was currently on hiatus with Seth – Ryan called it a hiatus, she called it **done**. Potato, Po-tah-to. Ryan, in turn, had broken up with Marissa for the eight millionth time (according to Summer) the previous summer after she got so drunk at a party that she nearly fell asleep in the host’s bed. Marissa was just out of rehab, and Ryan was ready to move on. _

_So love sucked. Feelings were overrated._

 _Sex, however, was nice._

 _In fact, as they had discovered together, sex could be amazing. Phenomenal. Mind-blowing. Fantastic. Fabulous._

 _As long as you didn’t let little things like love, affection and attachment muck it up._

 _“This is nice,” Summer whispered, nestling her head into the space between his shoulder and chest._

 _“I have to go soon,” he said, letting his hand glide over the smooth, naked skin of her back. He would do anything to be able to stay like this._

 _Anything._

 _“How soon?” she asked._

 _“Few minutes.”_

 _“Because of…”_

 _“Yeah.”_

 _Most of their conversations had become like this – one syllable words strung together like a form of minimalist code, blunt and yet strangely sweet. Ever since Ryan and Summer had hooked up, Ryan felt better equipped to deal with Seth and his verbal calisthetics. Talking to Seth became easier when he knew he could go find Summer and **not** talk, for awhile._

 _He and Summer had a better language – that of the body. Words seemed clumsy and stilted in comparison to caresses, licks, kisses, nips, even scratches. Seth wondered aloud why Ryan had taken to wearing an undershirt in the pool – he claimed it was because he burned easily, but the truth was his back was tatooed with evidence of Summer’s nails. He didn’t mind, though, even when it stung when he showered, because there was something undeniably sexy about having her pleasure etched into his skin. Every time he caught sight of the red lines and scars in the mirror he could hear her moans, feel her shuddering against him, purring his name._

 _But there were no feelings. No, never._

 _Anything but that._

 

Okay, so Ryan Atwood wasn’t exactly a member of Mensa. But he was fairly certain that he’d killed a few _too_ many brain cells last night, because he’d gone from reasonably intelligent to totally mindfucked. His frontal lobe was now a pile of gooey, useless mush.

And his head was going to explode. It had to. That was the only explanation for why it felt like someone had used a branding iron on his forehead. His head was going to explode, and out would march the twenty-five second-graders who had been tromping around inside his cranium looking for the treasure of the Sierra Madre. Or maybe just lunch. He didn’t fucking know, and he didn’t fucking care.

He just wanted them to take their field trip elsewhere.

He squeezed his eyes shut more tightly and tried to block out the buzz of his alarm. It could not be six am. That wasn’t possible. He’d just fallen asleep, for fuck’s sake!

Hmm. Ryan became a lot more profane when he was hungover. Who knew?

He tried to sit up. Oooh. Nausea. Definitely nausea, definitely dizziness. Definitely…

He bolted upright and ran into the bathroom, where he promptly emptied his stomach of its contents.

Okay, that was _one_ way to ensure he got out of bed.

He turned on the shower and slipped out of his boxers, tossing them carelessly onto the floor, then situated himself under the stream of warm water. As the water cascaded over his sore muscles, he tried to think of something, _anything_ , that he could look forward to after work. Something to get him through the day. Definitely wasn’t frequenting that bar again for awhile, so no hanging out with guys from work. Seth had gotten a job at the Bait Shop working at the box office on weekends, so he wouldn’t be around if he called. Marissa was on vacation somewhere...Ryan thought Seth had said Venice. Something told Ryan that even if he did know how to find nameless girl from last night, she wouldn’t be thrilled to see him. And Summer…

Well, Summer just wasn’t an option. This was a Summer-free summer. Because Summer was a whole lot of trouble in one fine, tiny package.

Goddamit.

Ryan needed to make more friends.

He stepped out of the shower, turned off the water, toweled off and padded over to the suitcase where he kept most of his clothes, picking out a clean pair of boxers, a white t-shirt and jeans. He needed to do laundry – hardly anything he had was clean.

Great. So his Friday night consisted of a hot date with the spin cycle.

Locating his wallet and keys, he pushed his way out of the door of his apartment, thinking he’d grab something to eat when his stomach felt a little less like he’d just ridden Space Mountain. He almost stepped on a slim envelope lying on the front stoop. Mail? Since when did he get _mail?_

The handwriting was frilly, loopy cursive. He tore open the envelope as a feeling of dread unfurled in his stomach.

 _Chino –_

 _I’m going to be in Ventura on Friday night. Meet me outside of the Albertson’s on Telegraph Road at eight._

It was unsigned.

So. Apparently he had plans tonight after all.

 

 _There were a lot of things Ryan didn’t know about Summer Roberts. But during the six months they spent screwing each other senseless in secret, he learned quite a few interesting facts about this spoiled, sassy Newport princess._

 _For one, she really liked setting the mood with the absolute cheesiest kind of mid-nineties R &B – Boyz II Men, Bel Biv Devoe, Luther Vandross, R. Kelly. The first time she flicked on her stereo and he heard_

 __

Girl relax, let's go slow  
I ain't got nowhere to go  
I'm just gonna concentrate on you  
Girl are you ready, it's gonna be a long night

 _…he’d cracked up laughing, which she hadn’t appreciated at all._

 _“You’re such a dick,” she’d pouted, and refused to talk to him until he found the exact right spot behind her ear with his tongue. As he nibbled along her slender neck and kissed down the valley between her breasts, she murmured something that sounded a lot like, “No more…talking…needed,” and he smiled against her skin._

 _Summer also liked to talk dirty. Like, really dirty. This wasn’t a problem for Ryan – actually, it turned him on like nobody’s business – but when Summer insisted he talk dirty too, he blanched. After all, Ryan wasn’t so much about the talking in general, let alone saying things that made him feel vaguely like he was in a porno. When he pointed out that she seemed to like what he did with his mouth besides talking, she kissed him lightly on the cheek and told him that was a good start._

 _He was just really, really glad that Summer hadn’t had the foresight to tape any of their sessions for blackmail purposes. At least, he didn’t think she had. Because that was the last thing he needed right now._

 _If Ryan were to count off on his fingers all the tidbits of information he knew about Summer, he’d surely run out of hands. Summer tasted like caramel and lemon ice tea. Her fingernail polish always matched her toenail polish. She had a scar just above her belly button shaped like a half-moon. She always wore lip gloss, even when she went to bed. When he kissed her neck, she made this sound like a breathy half-moan that made him instantly hard. She wore Chanel no. 5 because it was “classy and classic.” She had two hundred and sixty-four pairs of shoes, and only one of them were sneakers. She loved post-it notes and paper clips and good quality ballpoint pens. She was really good at calculating sums in her head. She owned four different editions of **The Little Princess**. And the list went on…and on…_

 _But the one thing Ryan didn’t know about Summer was the most important thing of all._

 _He didn’t know how she felt about him. Not really._

 _When Ryan stopped kidding himself for five minutes and actually thought about how he felt for Summer, he was overwhelmed by sensations. The smooth skin of her cheek creating friction against his stubble. Her lips pressing circles into the crook of his arm. Her eyes flashing with want, lust, desire, making his breath catch in his throat and his heart beat faster than he thought was possible without sending him into a seizure. Curls of her hair flicking across his chest, setting his nerve endings on fire as she licked her way down over the flat planes of his stomach._

 _Every curve, every twist and turn of her body._

 _Every time he navigated the surface of her body, he felt like he was re-discovering it._

 _And every time he wanted to claim it as his own._

 _Was he just the boy in the poolhouse to her? Just a guy she was fucking on the side? The best friend of her ex? A friend with benefits? Not a friend at all?_

 _The problem with the no-feelings rule was that it meant they never had conversations about their relationship. Because they had no relationship, right? So there was nothing to talk about. Talking indicated there was something there. And neither of them wanted that._

 _Except when Ryan started to feel like he did._

 _And that’s when he decided to run. Because it was safer, for both of them. He knew if he didn’t, he’d just keep getting caught in her web, keep letting her suck him in. He liked being caught by Summer a little too much. If he stayed in Newport, he knew he’d come every time she called, come running every time she beckoned._

 _What he didn’t count on – hadn’t even considered – was that she might come to him._

 

Summer tilted her head to one side. “Is that supposed to be sexy?”

Seth, who had been practically drooling on the TV, looked at her incredulously. “Uh… _yeah_ , it is.”

“But she’s, like, a freaky alien chick. That bodysuit is so 1987! And her eye make-up is out of control.”

“Summer,” Seth said slowly, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world, “she’s _Jeri Ryan._ ”

“Whatever, Cohen,” she said, settling back on his bed and closing her eyes. “You’re weird.”

Seth shook his head and laid back, his shoulder brushing hers. She could feel him looking at her out of the corner of his eye but she didn’t open her eyes or turn to look.

It was so strange. She just didn’t…feel it anymore.

In the past, during the periods when she and Seth had been broken up, every moment they spent together had the potential to be torturous. They had that ever-present tension, what she liked to call the “ex-factor.” Multiply any situation by the ex-factor and you’ve got instant potential for emotional evisceration in the form of embarassment, fighting, or – sometimes the worst of all – random hook-ups.

She’d had plenty of that with Seth over the last few years – mixed signals, confused fumblings, comfort sex, pity sex, nostalgic sex. But they’d been broken up for almost nine months now, and she still had no real desire to get back together.

That ever-present tension had just…disappeared.

Maybe this was what Dr. Phil was referring to when he talked about “moving on.”

“Summer?”

She blinked her eyes open. Seth was nervously playing with the fabric of the comforter, balling it between his fingers and twisting it. “Yeah?”

“Do you…think Ryan would be upset if I went up to Ventura to be with him this summer?”

Summer felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her stomach, part queasiness, part pure, unadulterated fear.

The same way she felt every time Seth mentioned Ryan.

“I mean, I can’t tell when I talk to him if he’s upset at me about something, or if there’s something else that’s bothering him. And I’m worried about him, because as much as he’s closed off all the time, he’s not usually so…I don’t know, _impossible_ to read. Know what I mean?”

Summer nodded. She did.

“So what do you think?” He looked up at her with wide, guileless brown eyes.

 _God._

This was, like, the worst situation _ever._

 

 _“This book is like, so depressing. This Raskoli-whatever guy needs some serious therapy.” Summer tossed her book onto the floor as Ryan looked on in amusement._

 _“How much of the book have you actually read?” he asked._

 _“Enough.”_

 _He raised an eyebrow._

 _“A lot, okay? Like – thirty pages.”_

 _“Thirty pages?” Ryan widened his eyes in disbelief. “This project is due Monday, Summer, and we haven’t even decided what 20th century novel we’re going to compare it to.”_

 _“Well, excuse me, Mr. It’s Academic. I’m sorry I’m not as motivated as you to do a stupid AP English project in our **senior year of high school**.” Summer wrinkled her nose and kicked off one of her high heeled sandals. The middle part of the shoe was digging painfully into her instep, and though she obviously hadn’t bought them for their comfy fit, she was still pissed off. Enough was enough already! No pain, no gain? Bullshit. Plus, Chino didn’t care. Chino probably didn’t even realize she was wearing $300 designer shoes. Boys were so unappreciative of the finer things in life. _

_Ryan just rolled his eyes at her and went back to leafing through his copy of the novel. She sniffed. What a bastard._

 _“Maybe we could compare it with **Native Son** ,” Summer piped up after a few moments of silence. “You know, the book about the guy who murders the girl because he’s afraid she’s going to tell people about him – “_

 _“You read **Native Son**?” Ryan interrupted._

 _“It was, like, totally an Oprah’s book club book,” she shot back. “I’m not a complete idiot…”_

 _“No, not a **complete** idiot…” Ryan repeated, averting his eyes and pretending to be absorbed in his book as a sly smile flickered across his face._

 _Summer threw a pillow at his head, barely missing, and he cracked up laughing._

 _“You’re such a little bitch!” she shouted at him._

 _Ryan couldn’t stop laughing. In fact, he didn’t stop until she climbed onto the bed and shoved her notebook into his lap, jabbing her finger at the page. “See, Mr. Peterman mentioned it here. He said you could talk about race in the modern era and why Wright’s take on it is different than Dostoevsky’s…”_

 _When she pulled her hand back her arm brushed against his and she felt goosebumps prickling her skin, which was so annoying. Goosebumps were so ew. They reminded her of pimples, and Summer was not a fan of skin disorders. Plus, since when was Chino goosebump-worthy? It must be getting chilly. Yeah, that was definitely it._

 _“That’s not such a bad idea,” Ryan said slowly, flipping a page in her notebook. “You take really good notes.”_

 _“Thanks,” she said, strangely flattered._

 _“I always figured you were reading Cosmo during those lectures or something,” he teased, his eyes filled with laughter._

 _She shoved him, hard, totally ignoring the fact that she **did** , in fact, read Cosmo frequently in class. She’d just mastered the art of taking notes at the same time. It’s not like Cosmo was heavy reading or something. She could process lit crit and nail tips at the same time._

 _She knew he wouldn’t just let the pushing thing go, but she did not expect him to lean over and start tickling her, which, when you were as ticklish as she was, basically amounted to a fate worse than death. “Chino!” she screamed. “If you don’t stop you are so going to lose an eye, or the use of your fingers – “_

 _“That would be shame,” he mumbled, and then he looked at her and winked._

 _Chino **winked.**_

 _Summer felt a twinge of electricity shoot through her, and she thought,_ What the hell is going on here?

 _Without thinking she pushed him back onto the bed and straddled him, using one hand to shove his fingers away, clasping his wrists together and holding his hands above his head. “Don’t. Do. That,” she instructed him._

 _To her surprise, instead of struggling he stayed completely still, just looking up at her with those blue eyes that were – jesus. Was it hot in here? Because it was totally freezing before and now it was practically tropical. This was what happened when you lived in a house made of windows._

 _He shifted beneath her uncomfortably, and it was then that she felt something hard press into her thigh and she heard him swallow a sigh._

 _Oh._

 _**Oh.**_

 _Jesus._

 _“Um…” she began, but forgot instantly what she was going to say when he shifted again and his arousal pressed against her pubic bone._

 _“I should – “ Ryan tried to move from under her, but she pressed her hand to his chest, keeping him in place._

 _“No,” she said firmly. Her pulse was racing and she had no idea what she was doing but here she was, straddling Chino on his bed on a Thursday night and…well, everything happens for a reason, right? Clearly there were things that needed to be done. Like, now._

 _She reached down between their bodies and pressed her palm flat along his rigid length, not hard, just enough to elicit a groan that sounded like half arousal and half frustration. She shivered. Summer **really** wanted to make him make that sound again. She curved her fingers slightly and cupped him through his jeans, sliding her other hand up his thigh until it rested just under where she knew he wanted her to touch him. He squeezed his eyes closed and breathed, “Summer…what are you…what are we…”_

 _She decided that if he was still coherent enough to speak she was doing something wrong, or just not doing enough. She grabbed his hand, which had been tracing slow circles up her torso – all well and good, but too slow, and she wanted fast, right now, really fast – and brought it to her lips. He watched from under hooded eyelids as she kissed his fingertips, then lazily flicked her tongue over the tip of his index finger and took it into her mouth. By the time she got to his pointer finger his eyes had shuttered closed and he was making little moaning sounds that made her tingle all over. She thought proudly:_ Mission accomplished.

Works every time. Why is that?

 _As if she didn’t know._

 _In case Chino was a little fuzzy on the details, though, she leaned in closer to his ear and murmured, “I want to lick **this** – “ one hand massaged his groin, “—like **that**.” She sucked his pinkie finger into her mouth, letting her tongue dance up and down it, enjoying the way his breathing became ragged and uneven._

 _Ryan’s eyes flew open, and she could see he was beyond aroused now – he was **hungry**. His lips were parted and he was breathing heavily and she could feel all his muscles tensed beneath her, begging for release._

 _His heated gaze locked with her own and Summer finally understood what “bedroom eyes” were because Chino was officially the sexiest thing she had ever seen._

 _Before she could process what was happening he had flipped her over on her back so he was above her, his body still pressed against hers, though he was balancing his weight carefully so not to lie too heavy against her. He slid his hands down over her sides and hooked his fingers into the waistband of her capris before peeling them off of her. She might have hesitated or put up a fight if she was thinking a tad more clearly, but she was too distracted by the way he was licking and kissing her stomach and her thighs and her knees and her calves and her ankles and ohgodthatfeltgood. She didn’t even realize she was making noise until he put his hand over her mouth. “Shhh…” he admonished. She’d completely forgotten they were in the poolhouse and it was a school night and sound traveled everywhere when the surrounding walls were made of solid glass._

 _Ryan’s lips were, like, amnesia-inducing. And that was **before** he used one finger to divest her of her flimsy thong. Then he was sucking a bruise into the underside of her knee and her head was spinning and she was so dizzy with desire that she didn’t even hear him the first time he asked the question. _

_“What?” she squeaked._

 _“Is this…okay?” he repeated._

 _“Is what okay?” She was pretty sure all her brain function had ceased._

 _“I want to lick this,” he murmured against her cheek, one finger gently tracing circles over her moist core, “like that.” He bowed his head slightly and fastened his mouth over her nipple, and even through the fabric of her tank top she could feel the heat and the suction and…_

 _Okay, so apparently Chino knew how to do fast._

 _“Yes,” she whimpered. “That is so okay…oh…god…”_

 _In a matter of seconds he had situated himself between her legs, his fingers stroking lightly over the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She knew she was totally wet and she felt kind of embarassed. What if he laughed at her? She was about to close her legs when she felt his tongue dart out and brush over her lips, feathery and light and it was torturous – torturous in the most wonderful way possible. Her hips lifted off the bed of their own accord and he slid his hands under her ass and tilted her body so he could get a better angle. And then he flicked his tongue over her clit, once, twice, again, again, again, and she moaned and cursed “Chino…oh…oh fuck…omigod yes…don’t stop…don’t fucking stop…oh…” He sucked her clit between his lips and slid one finger, no two fingers inside her and instantly she was quaking and clenching around his fingers and…oh god…_

 _Tension built to a climax and sent her over the edge, electric shocks radiating out from the center of her body, liquid heat coursing through her veins. She came loudly, gasping and moaning and not caring who heard her because **damn** , and also **jesus** , and…_

 _She’d never come that quickly in her entire life._

 _So. Evidently Chino had skills._

 _She was still shuddering through the aftershocks when he carefully extricated himself from between her legs and laid down next to her, curling his body into hers, using one hand to brush a strand of hair off her sweaty forehead. “You okay?”_

 _“Okay?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Chino, I am **much** better than okay.”_

 _A slow smile spread across his face and she could see he was blushing – Chino was **blushing**! He’d just given her incredible head and he was blushing because she was **flirting** with him? _

_Wonders will never cease._

 _Summer had a sudden desire to kiss him, long and sweet._

 _But for some reason, she held back._

 _A moment of silence passed as Summer attempted to even out her breathing, and Ryan cleared his throat. “So I guess we should get back to…”_

 _He began to sit up and move away from her, but she caught his arm and held fast. Her other hand, almost as if it had a mind of its own, slid down over his chest to grasp the still prominent bulge in his jeans. He inhaled sharply, his eyes tracing up her body to meet her gaze. “Oh, honey,” she whispered, “Dostoevsky can **wait.**_ ”

 

“Summer?”

She blinked out of her reverie, trying to focus her muddled thoughts on the task at hand.

“I…I don’t know, Cohen,” Summer said, stumbling over the words. “Maybe you should talk to him about it first. Just…run it by him and see what he thinks.”

Seth shook his head firmly. “You know how Ryan is. He’ll never admit that he’d like company. He’ll tell me to stay here. The only way this would ever work is if I just show up and insist.” He bit his lip, nervous. “Except if he tosses me out, of course. And I think it’s been established that Ryan’s pretty good at the tossing.”

Summer giggled nervously.

“I think I’ll go,” Seth says decisively. “I mean, what do I have to lose? If he doesn’t want me to stay then I’ll just turn the car around and come back. The parents are kind of freaking about him anyway – they decided to let him go but they’re still crazy worried about him.”

“I can understand that,” Summer nodded. “I mean, he’s living on his own, in a new place, and he won’t take any of their money.”

Seth sighed. “Yeah, he’s so fucking stubborn. I don’t know what he thinks he has to prove – that he doesn’t need us?” His voice caught in his throat on his next words. “That he doesn’t need _me_?”

Summer felt her stomach clench. “He needs you, Cohen. He’s just trying to figure stuff out. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

 _Too bad I do_ , she thought, and turned away from Seth’s searching eyes.

 

 _“You know there can’t be any feelings in this,” Summer said softly. She and Ryan were lying together on her bed, both naked and spent. With her body pressed against his she could feel the way his chest rose and fell with his deep, steady breathing. His eyes were heavy, and she could tell he was fighting sleep._

 _He nodded, slowly, and something flashed across his blue eyes so quickly that she barely caught it._

 _But it was definitely there._

 _Fear._

 _“We’re two horny teenagers, and obviously there’s…charge…between us,” Summer said hesitantly. “So this is part of that, right? We’re…getting it out of our system.”_

 _“Getting it out of our system,” Ryan repeated. His eyes were cast downwards, making him impossible to read. “Right.”_

 _“Right,” she whispered, and pulled him more tightly against her._

 _She wanted him close._

 _She didn’t want to think about why._

 

She’s always known she would go to see him.

She didn’t know, however, that it would be so soon.

She’d managed to contrive an excuse to get Ryan’s address in Ventura, mumbling something to Sandy about how he’d asked her to send him something he’d forgotten at her house when they were studying.

Like, maybe, his heart? Because she could _definitely_ send that UPS.

It hadn’t been easy to ask him; she knew Sandy suspected something was up, being considerably less oblivious than his son. He’d once run into her as she was sneaking out of the poolhouse one night rather late, her clothing a little too wrinkled and her hair messy, and had jokingly asked her if she’d encountered one of those rare Newport bears while she was out back. She’d stumbled her way through some lame excuse as he looked at her carefully, blue-green eyes clouding with suspicion.

“You be careful, Summer,” Sandy told her when he handed her a piece of paper with the address. And she knew he knew, too.

The letter she sent wasn’t really a letter – more of a note. And because she was feeling more and more like an undercover spy, she didn’t sign it.

Because she knew he’d know, and that he’d understand.

The drive wasn’t long, but it seemed like it. She couldn’t decide on a radio station or a CD so she drove in complete silence, fingers tapping anxiously against the wheel. She was so riled once she arrived at the drug store she’d picked as a rendezvous that she had to sit for several minutes in the car, completely still, just breathing.

And then she saw him.

He was leaning against the wall of the store, his broad frame slumped against the dirty glass. While she watched, he took out a pack of cigarettes, tapped it against his palm and took one out, lighting it with a Bic. So he was smoking again. She didn’t know what that meant.

He shifted slightly and looked up, and she could see his hair was a little longer, messy. He looked like he was sporting a little stubble, too. His eyes were glassy, tired, sad.

He looked…beautiful.

Summer swallowed.

 _You can do this. You can get out of this car._

She heard a tapping on her window, and she jumped. Then she looked up and saw him, standing outside of her window. He made a motion for her roll down the window, but instead she unlocked the door, leaned over, and pushed it open. “Get in,” she said softly.

He put out his cigarette and climbed inside. He stared straight ahead, his eyes giving nothing away.

“Chino…” she whispered, and she could see him flinch, as if just the sound of her nickname for him seared his skin like a cigarette burn.

She looked down at her hands. The silence was heavy. Her shoulders hurt. He was so close – she could smell the smoke on him, the light fragrance of his cologne, soap and sweat.

He was so close it hurt, pressed into her chest, felt like a bruise.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

He turned towards her then, and she could see his eyes flash with anger. “Missed me, huh?” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “Missed _what_ , exactly?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” she shot back, feeling resentment press at her temples.

“I mean,” he said slowly, deliberately, “did you miss me, or did you miss me fucking you?”

His words were so harsh, so blunt and so targeted that she could feel tears collecting at the corner of her eyes.

“I guess maybe they’re one and the same, huh?” he muttered.

 _No!_ she wanted to scream. _I missed you because everything is scary and confusing and horrible without you. I missed you because when we’re together I know I’m safe._

 _I missed you because when you left, you took a piece of me with you._

“It’s not like that,” was all she could manage, her voice threatening to desert her.

“That’s kind of the problem, isn’t it?” he said. “I don’t really know _what_ it’s like.”

He looked so miserable sitting there, and her stomach hurt like she’d been punched in the gut.

Summer reached out and took his hand in his. He twitched, and she could see a tug-of-war going on in his eyes as he tried to decide whether he should pull away.

Then he bit his lip and tightened his grip on her hand and she felt relief wash over her, cool and sweet.

“It’s like this,” she murmured, bringing his hand to her lips and kissing his palm. “And this…” she leaned across the gearshift and pressed her hands to his cheeks and kissed him, softly. He tasted like smoke and something tangy and sugary and she wanted to drink him in and kiss him forever and be here, with him, always.

And yes, these were feelings, and they were scary.

But being without him scared her more.

When they broke apart his eyes had shifted from desperately sad to slightly puzzled. She wanted to kiss all his questions away.

“Summer, we can’t – “ he began.

“But we can, Chino,” she whispered. “Just this one time.”

 _Just this one time._

How many times had she said that to him before?

He opened his mouth to protest some more, no doubt, but she wasn’t going to let him – in one quick maneuver she climbed across the gearshift and straddled him, her hand cupping the back of his neck and bringing his lips to hers, silencing him with a kiss. As was always the case, things escalated from teasing to frantic in a matter of seconds. His hands were everywhere, skimming over her back, up her sides, tangling in her hair, thumbs caressing her cheeks. She ran her hands down over his chest, popping open buttons as she went, and when she got to the waistband of his jeans she kept going, unfastening a button, unzipping his fly and sliding her hand into his boxers. He groaned when her hand met bare skin, and she smiled in spite of herself.

“You make it hard to say no,” Ryan gasped, his fingers clutching at the armrest. His head slammed back against the headrest as she wrapped her small hand around his cock.

“Oh, I make it hard, alright,” she drawled, stroking her hand up and down, finding their practiced rhythm. He made a sound like a cross between a chuckle and a moan, slipping his hand under her shirt and drawing gentle fingers over the heated skin of her back. Then they were lost in a deep kiss, all tongues and teeth and lips, and Summer forgot entirely where they were, why she’d come, forgot her birthday, her shoe size, her own name.

And she couldn’t have cared less.

 

When Ryan turned on the light in his apartment, Summer had to smother a gasp of surprise. It was so…bare, so completely the opposite of the Cohen house, with its color-coordinated peaches ‘n’ cream décor and silk sheets.

But then she realized that may be exactly what he wanted right now.

“You can sit…over there,” Ryan said, gesturing with one hand to the only chair in the apartment, a dubious affair with many tatters and creases and stains. She sat down gingerly, glad to find it didn’t shatter into pieces under her weight.

Ryan watched her carefully, his eyes scanning her face, trying to read her, then looked away. Summer knew that there was something about sex, in any form, that unnerved Ryan – maybe the vulnerability it created. He sat hunched over on the lumpy mattress that filled one corner of the room, his hands clasped loosely together around his knees, his eyes traced on the floorboards. Everything about him screamed closed off, from the scuffed edges of his shoes to way his blonde fringe fell in front of his eyes to the curve of his shoulders.

“I need to talk to you about something,” she blurted out.

He didn’t say anything, just ran one finger absently over his wrist.

“It’s about Cohen.”

He tensed visibly, one hand clenching into a fist, then uncurling. He still said nothing.

Summer sighed. “I talked to him yesterday. We were hanging out, and he said he…wants to come here to live with you this summer.”

Ryan’s head snapped up. “He what?”

“He wants to – “

“Why does he want to live with me?” Ryan asked. “Why would he want to live here?”

Summer shrugged. “I think he has some romanticized notion of what that would be like – you know, that you’d hang out all the time, be without parents…”

“I’m working twelve-hour shifts,” Ryan said. “And this place is a dump. He’s better off in Newport.”

She looked up and their eyes met. “He said you’d say that.”

“Well, I’m right,” he said stubbornly. “He’d hate it here.”

“He wouldn’t hate it here, he’d love it,” Summer said. “He’d love it because he’d be with you.”

Ryan’s eyes found the floor again, and she could see a blush tint his cheeks. “That’s…”

“…totally true?” Summer finished. “No offense, Chino, but I know Cohen pretty damn well, and he’s completely lost without you. You’re, like, his center of gravity, and he’s been stumbling around all off-kilter ever since you left.”

“I’ll see him in August,” Ryan said, his voice rough. It sent a delicious shiver up Summer’s spine.

“But he wants to see you now,” she said patiently.

Ryan buried his head in his hands, sighing. Summer stood up and walked the few feet over to the bed, taking a seat next to him, slipping her arm around his shoulders. She felt the muscles of his shoulders tense. “I can’t keep doing this,” he murmured.

She started. “What?”

He shifted slightly so she had to move her arm. She drew her hand back as if she’d been stung. “We can’t…this is why I left, Summer. You know that. You know why I left and you still came here. Why?”

“I told you why I came!” Summer exclaimed. “I missed you!”

His eyes met hers, his gaze intense and heartbreaking and oddly seductive. “You think I didn’t miss you? You think I didn’t…” His voice caught and broke. “This is why…I didn’t want this to happen. I didn’t want us to keep...I didn’t want to keep…”

“Chino, you’re sounding like Cohen,” Summer interrupted, and when he drew back she knew she’d said exactly the wrong thing.

“Are you and Seth…are you…”

“No, we’re not anything! I mean, we’re friends, but we’re not more than that. And I’m fine with it. I don’t want us to get back together or anything. It’s much better like this, so much less…tension…”

“You never answered my question,” Ryan said slowly. “You say you missed me, but why did you – “

“ _God_ , Chino!” Summer exploded. “What the hell kind of question is that? Don’t you know the answer?”

“No, I don’t!” he shouted. It was the first time she’d ever heard him raise his voice. “I don’t know! I wouldn’t fucking ask if I knew – “

“I missed you because when we’re together everything makes sense,” she cut him off, her voice thin and strained. She felt emotionally blind, crippled. “All the pieces are in place. Because you always know when to be quiet and when to talk. Because you’re hot as hell and you make me feel like…like I’m some kind of goddess.” She paused to take a breath, tears collecting at the corners of her eyes. Goddamit, she did not want to cry. Not like this. “I missed you because you’re the only person it’s easy for me to be with right now, the only person who knows what I want and what I need and who can give it to me.” He was looking at her steadily, his blue eyes filled with a strange mixture of fear and hope. That was all it took; she felt the tears spill out of her eyes and streak down her cheeks. “I missed you because I’m fucking in love with you, you idiot,” she said, her voice breaking on the last words, and she covered her face with her hands, suddenly wanting to hide from everyone and everything.

Usually when she wanted that, lately, she ran to Ryan. But what could she do now?

“Summer…” he murmured, and she felt his arms encircle her shoulders, enveloping her in a warm, firm embrace. “Don’t cry…”

The way he said it – like he meant it, because Ryan didn’t say things he didn’t mean – made her cry harder.

“I...can’t…” He was struggling to say something, and she desperately wanted to shake it out of him, whatever buried emotions he was trying to give voice, but she knew it didn’t work that way. Ryan’s particular brand of complicated was more than just practiced evasiveness or self-defense.

It was scars, burns, bruises, scratches.

It was a wall strong enough to maintain his sanity even after two alcoholic mothers, an abusive father, a psychotic brother, a suicidal, chemically dependent girlfriend.

And she knew she was part of this now, too. Another brick in that wall, her teasing and mixed signals just more mortar to fill in the cracks.

She’d thought they could do no-feelings, that they could maintain a casual sex pact that would protect them both from the stinging pain love can bring. But that idea was ridiculous, a fantasy born of the worst kind of ignorance. Because Ryan Atwood might be a delicious combination of bad-boy sex appeal, eyes like sky and hard muscle, but he was also a human being.

And a pretty damn amazing one at that.

“Summer,” he whispered, tightening his arms around her, pulling her closer. “Summer, Summer, Summer,” he repeated, her name on his lips like the soft caress of a feather.

And she understood what he was telling her. Words were not Ryan’s thing, but they communicated better without them, anyway.

She had no idea how long they stayed like that, entwined in each other arms, breathing each other in.

But finally she had to draw back, pulling his cell phone out of his pocket and handing it to him. He glanced down at it in confusion, then up into her eyes. “You – “

“Call him,” she told him, quiet but firm.

He nodded, found the number on speed-dial, pressed send. She was so close to him she could hear it ringing, once, twice, three times.

A sleepy voice finally answered. “Seth,” Ryan said, his voice flat and emotionless. “How soon can you come to Ventura? We need to talk.”

Seth was shivering. He shivered and shook for ten minutes before he realized the car AC was on and he could turn it down. He rolled down the windows, let in the warm summer breeze, salty-scented air skimming off the water.

He didn’t quite understand why he was driving up the coast in the middle of the night, headed for a town he’d never been to before and a person he wasn’t sure he knew anymore. Things like this always seemed to happen to Seth. It was weird. He didn’t feel like the master of his own life most of the time, and not just because he still had to borrow his parent’s car to get anywhere.

It was the tone and timbre of Ryan’s voice that chilled him the most. The way he pronounced each word like it was difficult, the barely concealed bitter edge. Seth had no idea what that meant, and Ryan wouldn’t answer his questions, wouldn’t even try to allay his anxieties.

“Come here,” he kept saying. “Come here and we’ll talk.”

Seth wanted to talk to Ryan. He’d wanted to talk to Ryan all summer, _really_ talk to him, not just be subjected to more of his smokescreen answers and heavy silence. In fact, he didn’t really want to _talk_ to Ryan – he wanted to listen. He wanted Ryan to talk to him, for once.

He wanted answers.

Seth was horrendously bad at getting answers out of Ryan Atwood. He thought he was really stealth and slick about it, but in actuality Ryan totally had him beat. Seth would start out asking about important Ryan things, like why he’d decided to leave Newport, or why he’d been so incredibly moody the last few weeks before he left, and somehow end up talking about himself, about how excited he was for college in the fall and how he’d already collected six posters for the dorm room they were going to share and how his iPod was completely flipping out on him, but it’d calmed down in the last few days after he put new batteries in it. Basically Ryan capitalized on the fact that Seth could be – _could be_ – kind of self-absorbed.

And then they’d get off the phone and Seth would realize he knew no more than he’d known before he called him.

Seth really was serious about coming down to Ventura, offering to live with Ryan, to keep him company. He’d told Summer it was to help Ryan out, but he knew it was because he wasn’t prepared to spend another summer alone.

Not that he would be alone – not really. He’d have Summer, his parents. Maybe Marissa occasionally, whenever she got back from her European travels. There was always the Playstation, and his trusty skateboard. They were good and loyal friends, always.

But if there was anything Seth had learned from the summer he spent in Portland, it was that a summer without Ryan was basically a summer alone.

Of all the possible upsets Seth had anticipated to his plans, he’d never considered Ryan might actually invite him to come there first. Now Ryan was _initiating_ a talk, so something really must be up. Ryan wasn’t exactly chatty on a regular basis. And the fact that he insisted it be in person…kind of scared Seth.

Okay, _really_ scared him. Scared him like…clowns. Vicious, cannibalistic clowns trapping him in small spaces.

Hmm. Maybe not quite that much. And now he had a lovely image to accompany him on his trip as he drove _alone_ in the _dark_ on _empty roads._

Ah! Thank Moses. There was a sign up ahead for Ventura. At 2 am on a weeknight, with no traffic, the drive was surprisingly short. Here he’d been feeling like Ryan was worlds away and it was only a little over an hour and a half-long drive.

The directions Ryan gave him were specific and accurate, just like you’d expect from a guy who’d aced AP Physics and Calc. It only took him a few minutes to find the run-down apartment building. When he pulled up in front he gawked a little – not that he’d thought Ryan was living in the Ritz-Carlton, but this was a _significant_ downgrade from the Cohen poolhouse. A few empty bottles and cans littered the scraggly patch of grass in front of the building, and the cement walkway was cracked and worn. The building itself look like it could use a new coat of paint or three, and when Seth walked up to the front door, he wasn’t surprised when none of the doorbells seemed to work.

Everything about the place screamed “mediocre.” Seth didn’t want to be a Newport snob, but he was having trouble understanding why Ryan would leave his perfectly nice, comfortable digs with a gorgeous ocean view so he could live here, alone, and do manual labor all day. That seemed rather masochistic even for Ryan. He had to admit when he’d imagined where Ryan was staying he’d pictured a classy, spare little garden apartment, maybe a few blocks from the beach, fire escape in back, a bay window or two. Not this.

After struggling for a few minutes with the front door intercom, he realized it might be more productive to just use his cell phone. But when he pulled it out he saw his battery had gone dead. Of course. Because this was the way the world worked when you were cursed with the Cohen luck.

On a whim he tried the front door and found that it clicked open easily. Huh. Guess the lock had gone the way of the doorbell, too.

He decided not to brave the elevator – Seth had already determined he had little faith in the maintenance people of this particular apartment complex – and climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, easily locating #406. Good thing Ryan had thought to give him the apartment number. He knocked once, lightly, got no response, and then tried the doorknob. It made a disturbing clacking noise, but when he twisted it with more force the door shuddered open.

The room was dark, shadows from curtainless windows criss-crossing the scratched floorboards. He couldn’t see clearly, but he could tell it wasn’t exactly a pimped out bachelor pad; there was a tiny kitchen just big enough for one person to maneuver around it, a ratty arm chair, a milk crate with an old, battered TV set on it, and in one corner he could just make out Ryan’s suitcases, both open and filled with rumpled clothing.

He’d never even…unpacked.

But then his eye caught on the final piece of furniture – a mattress, placed directly on the floor, pushed into a corner under a window. This wasn’t surprising in itself, aside from the fact that it didn’t look too comfortable. Well, his mom always said sleeping on the floor was good for your back, anyway. Maybe Ryan had the right idea.

What _was_ surprising, however, was that lying on the bed was not one body, but two. The first was clearly Ryan, his upper body illuminated by the street lights that cast beams in through the nearby window. The second looked to be very…female. They were both asleep. Ryan was breathing through his mouth, snoring lightly, and the girl was wrapped around him, her arm flung across his chest, her head pillowed on his shoulder.

Stepping closer, feeling far too much like a creepy stalker for his own taste, Seth could see more of the girl’s long brown hair, the planes of her cheekbones delicately curved, smooth. She looked so peaceful, so beautiful in the low light, and so…comfortable, Like she belonged there.

He took one step closer, leaned over, and gasped.

 _No fucking way._

 _“Summer?”_ he almost whimpered, his voice rising and cracking.

 

She hadn’t meant to fall asleep.

When Seth said he was coming right away, Summer actually felt disappointed; she’d hoped for a whole night with Ryan, enough time to really rediscover his body, remind herself of everything she’d been missing for the last month. The front seat of a Range Rover wasn’t the most ideal location to create the complete sensual experience. Not that a mattress in the middle of a ghetto apartment that might have rodents was ideal, either, but it was an upgrade. At least they could lie down.

But of course Seth would want to come immediately. She could tell by the way that Ryan winced and rubbed his temples while talking to him on the phone that Seth was freaking out. Maybe it was better this way, anyway. Get it over with.

They were both so exhausted from the emotional intensity of the evening, not to mention Ryan’s long day at work and Summer’s drive through the worst rush-hour traffic, that they had hardly laid down on the bed before they were out cold.

Summer should have known this would happen. She was smarter than this. But when Ryan Atwood was around, she had a tendency to lose her focus and her concentration. Everything blurred to a soft photo finish and she left her common sense at the door.

Which she guessed was, in a strange way, what love was.

And now Seth Cohen was standing over her, looking like he’d swallowed a gallon of gasoline mixed with cod liver oil and lemon juice.

“Seth.” Ryan was awake now, too, and he sat up so fast that Summer rolled over and almost fell off the mattress. “I’m sorry,” he apologized to her, then addressed Seth. “You’re here.”

“Yeah, I’m here,” Seth said, a little indignantly. “But that doesn’t explain why _you’re_ —“ he pointed at Summer “—here.”

“I – “ Summer started to say, but Ryan cut her off.

“This is kind of what I wanted to talk to you about, man,” Ryan said slowly. Summer could tell he was still trying to shake off sleep. “It’s…complicated.”

“You’re not kidding,” Seth muttered. Summer could see he was tense, and his eyes were streaked with hurt. She wished she could reach out and wipe that pain away, but she knew she couldn’t.

And it was pretty much downhill from here.

“Summer and I have…been…” Ryan was clearly searching for some way to soften the blow. Not sugar-coat it, because Ryan didn’t do that, but just make it go down a little easier.

“Cohen, we’ve been – well, not dating so much as – having sex,” Summer blurted out.

Seth’s whole body seemed to droop, and he reached blindly for the closest piece of furniture, thankfully finding the chair and collapsing into it. A slice of light illuminated his crumpled frame, and she could see him exhale and close his eyes.

“At first we were just – “

“ – screwing around,” Summer interrupted. She knew this was harsh, but she believed it was better to rip a band-aid off all at once, not peel it away, centimeter by centimeter.

“And now?” Seth said dully. His eyes were still closed.

“Now it’s…something more than that,” Ryan whispered.

“We’re…in love,” Summer managed. She couldn’t look at Seth. She knew that they hadn’t been dating for months, that he didn’t own her, that there was no rational reason why he should be hurt by this. But she knew he’d see it as a betrayal just the same.

Just like Ryan did.

Seth’s eyes flickered open, and she could see he was burning up inside, wanting desperately to say something he didn’t know how to articulate.

“Seth…” Ryan said.

“No, look, man. I get it. I just don’t…this is just _perfect_ ,” Seth snapped.

“Cohen,” Summer murmured, “we didn’t mean –“

“You know, don’t you?” Seth ignored her, looking at Ryan. “About my genius plan to come down here?”

“Summer told me you were thinking – “

“The weird thing is, dude, I didn’t even know, like _really_ know why I wanted to be here with you so much until I got here. ‘Cause it’s not the location, right? The sweet crib?” Seth said, gesturing around him. He rubbed his temples. “As long as it’s confession time…Summer and I have been hanging out. But you knew that too, right?” Seth sighed. “And I realized something.”

Ryan’s face was unreadable, his blue eyes blank, his jaw twitching slightly. Summer wanted so badly to touch him that she grasped his hand and squeezed, to let him know she was here, that she was here for him. She’d never felt so torn in her life.

Seth’s voice hitched painfully on his next words. “I’m still in love with you.”

Summer felt like the floor had been kicked out from under her, like everything had shifted. She took in a shaky breath, saying, “Cohen, I thought we were done – “

“No, Summer, you don’t understand,” Seth said, and when he looked up she could see his eyes, dark and intense. “I love you, I do, but – “ He exhaled slowly, looking down at his feet. “I was talking about Ryan.”

 

Ryan’s skin stung like he’d been slapped in the face. His mind reeled, and brilliantly produced two thoughts: _What?_ and **_What?_**

“Seth, what are you – “ he started to say.

“No, you know what? This was stupid.” Seth got up from the chair, nearly tripping over a bump in the floorboards. “This whole trip thing, it was stupid. I never should have come here. I never should have said that. Just…forget it.” He was backing away towards the door. “Just…carry on – “

Then Seth was out the door, not even slamming it behind him, just gently shutting it with a click. Ryan heard his steps on the cement stairs, growing more and more quiet and distant as he descended.

Ryan felt immobile, like stiff, petrified wood. _What the hell am I supposed to do now?_

A hand grasped his arm, small and warm, and it took him a moment to process that it was Summer’s. He’d almost forgotten she was there.

“Chino,” she whispered, her voice weak, “maybe you should go…”

Well, this was ironic.

He didn’t say anything. Part of him wanted to stay put, not go running after Seth like he always did, just to do something different, to break the pattern. But he knew where Seth had gone, and he felt like he owed him something, maybe more of an explanation.

And he _knew_ Seth owed him more of one, because… _What_?

“I’ll be back,” he said to Summer, his hand covering hers. “Okay?”

Summer nodded, her brown eyes wet with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, not know exactly what he was apologizing for.

Summer kissed him then, her hand caressing the back of his neck, sending shivers down his spine.

Summer’s kisses built warmth from somewhere deep within him, fanned flames he thought were long gone, smothered under hurt and self-doubt. It felt familiar, and yet totally new – Summer’s warmth was like no one else’s.

Summer was not just a girl. She’d never been just a girl.

And Ryan was not going to let her go. Not like this.

When he stood up she stood with him, and he pressed her hand between his. “I love you,” he whispered.

Summer blinked, and surprise flushed her cheeks. “I – “

“I know,” he cut her off.

And then he was gone.

 

Oh, Seth had screwed up before. Yessiree. _The Seth Cohen Story: Uncensored_ read like a veritable index of foibles, faux pas, mistakes, misunderstandings, slip-ups and failures. It was almost impressive, when you thought about it – so much dysfunction bundled into one clumsy, misguided package.

But this was no typical Cohenesque screw-up. It wasn’t the kind of screw-up that could be explained away with a well-delivered punchline, or even the kind that could be forgiven after a good deal of begging and pleading and self-effacing and general submission.

No, this was beyond that.

This was a _real_ screw-up, a screw-up deserving of a major mental ass-kicking, of intense chastisement, of punishment, and not the good kind.

What had ever possessed him to be so fucking _honest_?

After all, he’d done a pretty good job of concealing his more-than-friendly feelings for Ryan for the better part of two years. In fact, they’d been mostly concealed from himself. If there was one thing Seth was good at, it was distraction. Whenever he felt that magnetic pull towards Ryan, the desire to touch him in a way that was not the kind of brotherly tussling they occasionally engaged in, he just flipped off that switch, left those feelings in the dark.

But then he found himself alone, and with lots of time on his hands to meditate on Ryan and his attributes, both positive and negative, and it became a lot harder to _be_ distracted.

Truthfully, even though Seth had blurted out the l-word, he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

He’d thought he’d been in love with Summer. He did love her, of course, and he’d certainly been infatuated with her, if that was the right word – she was gorgeous, and fun to be around, and she gave him that giddy warmth in his abdomen, the unshakeable happy feeling that left him smiling for hours.

In those few moments in Ryan’s apartment, though, he’d realized something. At first he couldn’t even fathom that these two people – two people he’d thought were the most unlikely couple imaginable – could have anything between them at all. Maybe he was still asleep, having one of those crazy insecurity dreams, and next he’d look in the mirror and see his teeth and hair were falling out. Maybe they were just fucking with him. Why, he had no idea, since that’d be an incredibly cruel joke, but…well, it could happen. His brain ran through a million rationalizations, and he was more than ready to propose at least six of these totally credible explanations for why he’d found his ex-girlfriend asleep with his best friend when Summer hit him with the knockout blow.

 _We’re…in love._

 _No_ , Seth thought. _No, they’re wrong. They’re confused. They don’t know what they’re talking about._

But when he saw the look they exchanged, saw the way Summer clasped Ryan’s hand like she couldn’t let go, he knew.

Summer had never looked him like that.

And he’d never looked at her quite like that, either.

He wasn’t angry, or even jealous. No, that wasn’t it.

He was desperately, desperately sad. Empty.

Like someone who’d just had his heart broken.

So he figured this was what being in love felt like.

He knew his logic was a little inverted, but he thought it worked.

Seth dug his feet into the sand, relishing the way the granules filled in the cracks between his toes. He closed his eyes and wished for a boat, even just a raft, something that could float, anything to take him away from here, from fucking Buenaventura. Stupid beach town of lost hopes and shattered dreams. Wouldn’t be such a tourist trap if they put that on the welcome signs, now would it?

“When you run you don’t exactly run far, do you?”

Seth jumped at the sound, but his heartbeat evened out when he felt Ryan settle next to him on the sand.

“Well, it’s not like I know where to go. I’ve never been here before, you know,” Seth babbled. “And the GPS isn’t working, and anyway, I didn’t know where – “

He stopped when he glanced over and saw Ryan was looking at him, eyebrows raised, amused.

“I figured you’d come here,” Ryan said. “You and the water are kind of the dynamic duo, right?”

“I thought _we_ were the dynamic duo,” Seth blurted out before he could stop himself, and Ryan’s face fell.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Ryan looked out at the ocean and sighed.

“I need to know, Seth, if you meant what you said back there.”

Seth felt anger prick at his eyelids. It stung. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

“I don’t know, why would you?” Ryan’s voice was calm, but Seth knew he could have cut himself on the edge. “Because if it is true, haven’t you been lying to me for awhile?”

“You can’t do this, Ry, not in this situation. You can’t pretend you’re taking the high road. You’ve been fucking my ex for…god, how long now? Long enough for her to fall in love with you, right? That irresistible Chino magnetism got to her, huh?” Seth could hear his voice rising, could feel himself trying to swallow his rage and failing.

“She’s your _ex_ ,” Ryan snapped. “You broke up, and it was _months_ before we started – “ He stopped.

“Started what, exactly?” Seth was on a roll now. “’Cause I’m fuzzy on the details. Seems like she said you were screwing around. That a decision you came to mutually?”

“Yes,” Ryan said definitely, and Seth felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. “Because there was – a thing – between us.”

“And that was – okay with you?” Seth asked. “Casual sex for Ryan Atwood? I thought you left that back in the 909.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t so fucking casual, was it?” Ryan bit back, his voice low and dangerous. “Because apparently I can’t do casual anymore. And neither could Summer.”

Seth had no comeback for that, so he sat silent.

“This is the thing, Seth.” Ryan was choosing his words carefully. “I care about you…a lot. But I can’t be…I can’t be what you want me to be in this situation. And trashing Summer and me isn’t going to change that. Nothing,” he looked at Seth now, and their gazes locked, “can change that.”

Seth started to say something, but Ryan wasn’t done. “I’m really and truly sorry for how this happened. We never should have kept this from you. We were so confused about what we…are to each other, what we were doing, and you seemed happy and I didn’t want to – “

“—fuck that up with the truth,” Seth finished for him. “Like I did.”

Ryan looked at his hands, not confirming or denying Seth’s statement.

“Have I just…totally messed everything up? Like, forever?” Seth asked. “Because maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m just…I don’t know, a little bit in love with you, or something. Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation talking. You know how I get when I don’t sleep – “

“Seth,” Ryan stopped him, “you don’t have to do this. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the last six months, it’s that…” he sighed, “who you fall for may be completely out of your control.”

Seth curled his body over his legs, wrapping his arms around his bent knees. “I feel so…like such an ass…”

“Well, you kinda are,” Ryan said, and when Seth looked at him, he could see laughter dancing in his eyes. “But you’re the best kind there is.”

Seth wasn’t so choked up that he couldn’t punch Ryan in the shoulder, hard, and he may have felt a little _too_ satisfied when Ryan yelped in pain.

But then Ryan pulled him into a hug, and Seth’s anger disappeared in an instant, dissolving into the soft light of very early morning.

“I love you, man,” Ryan said.

“I – “ Seth started to say, but Ryan cut him off.

“I know.”

Seth let go first, and was glad he did, though he wasn’t sure why.

“You know, when I imagined the conversations we might have if I came up here, I never thought I’d say this,” Seth said slowly. He paused. “I think maybe you should stay here for the rest of the summer. If you don’t mind, that is. Because I think it might be good…for us.” He cleared his throat. “For me, especially. To have time apart.”

Understanding flickered across Ryan’s clear blue eyes, and he nodded. “I think you’re right.”

“And if in August, you think the whole Berkeley situation needs to be…changed, then I totally understand. I won’t complain about it or anything,” Seth continued.

“You know what?” Ryan said. “Maybe we can deal that when we get there.”

”Good plan,” Seth said. His chest hurt, but he smiled a little anyway.

Because if he’d learned anything from romantic comedies and love songs, it was this: the best thing to do for a broken heart was to give it time to heal.

And if it didn’t?

Well, then you wrote songs and made movies about it.

 

When Ryan got back to the apartment, he was mildly surprised to hear quiet music emanating from it. Then he remembered the tiny transistor radio one of the guys at work had leant him. Summer must have found it.

He turned the knob and slipped inside, closing the door softly behind him, in case she had fallen asleep, but then he saw her sit up in bed, the covers peeling away to reveal her smooth, tan skin, glowing in the warm light of the rising sun. “Chino?” She sounded a little nervous, and he realized how scary it must be to be in an unfamiliar place like this, alone.

“Yeah, it’s me.”

She beckoned to him. “C’mere.”

He walked over to the mattress, collapsing onto it, feeling the sleep deprivation kick in with a vengeance.

But evidently Summer wasn’t so sleepy, because she climbed on top of him, trapping him beneath her body. Of course, he could throw her off if he wanted to, but honestly…why would he want to?

“Is Cohen okay?” she asked, and he could see the concern etched in her wide eyes.

“He…he’ll be okay,” he mumbled. For some reason the words felt like cotton balls stuck in his throat, and he had to swallow to continue. “I think we worked it out, sort of. He wants me to stay…here. For the summer.”

Summer’s face fell a little, but she covered it quickly. “He…doesn’t want you around, huh?”

Ryan shifted slightly, sighing. “Yeah, I think he thinks it’d be easier if he could deal with his issues by himself,” he said. “I’m kind of familiar with that feeling.”

“You still feel that way?” Summer asked, reaching down and running her hand through his hair, twisting the ends in her fingers.

“N-not so much,” he stuttered, a little embarrassed at the way his heartbeat sped up from that slight touch.

“But you’re going to stay here.”

He nodded, and braced himself for a tirade he was sure would follow.

“Well, that works out, I guess,” she said.

His eyes widened. “What?”

“You have to keep this job, Chino, so you can make money and buy me stuff,” she explained patiently. “I’m not a cheap date, you know.”

Ryan’s mouth curled up into a smile. “Oh, so now you want to date me? You telling me you can imagine us going to the movies together, sharing some popcorn and holding hands?”

“Sure,” she said, smiling easily. “If you take me home afterwards and do naughty things to me.”

Ryan laughed, grasping her shoulders and pulling her against him. “Well, I’m glad to see we’re on the same page.”

“We’re always on the same page,” she murmured, leaning over and licking his neck, trailing her tongue over the curve of his collarbone, dipping it into the hollow of his throat. He leaned back and sighed, his hands drifting down over her back to cup her ass and pull her firmly against him.

She twisted her hips and ground into him, making a hiccupping gasping sound that went straight to his groin. “Summer, is this…” he said, losing his voice mid-sentence when she pushed up his undershirt and scraped her nails over his nipples.

“S’okay, baby, it is…” she whispered, and Ryan could hear the message beneath the words.

 _Stop feeling guilty for who you love and how you love them._

Then she kissed him, open-mouthed and hungry, and he felt desire surge through his whole body, every fiber of his body infused with want. He was mildly conscious of the lyrics of the song playing from the radio.

 __

I’ve been meaning to tell you  
I’ve got this feelin’ that won’t subside  
I look at you and I fantasize  
You are mine tonight  
Now I’ve got you in my sights

He laughed. “This is worse than Boyz II Men.”

Summer stopped kissing over his jawline to draw back and give him a deadly glare. “You need to shut up for, like, any number of reasons.”

“I’m sorry, I’m having a _Dirty Dancing_ moment,” he said, lifting his hips just enough to bring her warm center in contact with his erection. He sucked in a breath.

“But you don’t dance, do you, Chino?” Summer murmured, her hand traveling down over his thigh and up to cup him through his jeans.

He bit his lip, barely managing “No.”

“That’s okay. You can be my Patrick Swayze anyway.” Her lips curved into a sexy lopsided smile, and he thought he’d never seen her look quite as beautiful as she did in that moment.

Then he lost the ability to think at all when she unbuttoned his jeans and slid her hand into his boxers, grasping his cock in her hand and squeezing not so gently. He loved that about Summer – how forward she was, how she knew what she wanted, how she went right for it, knowing it was what he wanted too.

When she moved off of him he made a disappointed sound that came from the back of his throat, eliciting a giggle from her. God, women, so cruel! But then she was pulling off his pants, and then his boxers, and her hands glided over his stomach, followed by her skilled tongue. Before he could even begin to process all the sensations she was creating she took him into her mouth, sliding up and down, swirling her tongue over the head.

He really thought he might pass out, because yeah, it’d only been, like, a month, but what a long and lonely month it had been.

She sucked harder and faster and he grasped at the bedsheets, his hands clenching into fists. Then Summer reached out with one hand and clasped his, unfurling his fingers to thread them through her own.

She stopped for a few torturous seconds to whisper, “Just let it happen, Chino.”

And he did a moment later, exploding into her mouth in quick, fast, bursts, groaning louder than he’d ever been able to in the Cohen poolhouse or the Roberts’ mansion, where they’d always had to be quiet so as not to alert her parents.

When he had stopped shivering through the aftermath of that incredible orgasm, he opened his eyes to see Summer wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes glittering with a mixture of arousal and self-satisfaction.

Oh, if Summer was the cat, Ryan would be her canary _any day of the week._

She slid up his body, settling against him, running a finger over his cheekbone. “You’re crying,” she murmured, and he realized that he was.

“That was…intense,” he breathed, and she smiled, kissing his cheek. He stroked his thumb over her lips, saying softly, “You look beautiful.”

“I know,” she said, her voice muffled as she buried her face in his neck. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

It was raining as Ryan stuffed his freshly laundered clothes into his suitcases, not bothering to fold them. He’d just have to re-pack them anyway in a couple of days when he and Seth set off for Berkeley. He could hear the droplets tap-tapping on the windowpanes as if they were demanding to be invited in, and it sent a strange anticipatory chill through him. In southern California, rain often prompted self-reflection. It was such a rare occurrence that it seemed like every storm should be marked with some kind of ritual, symbol or perhaps celebration.

Ryan’s current rain dance involved wandering aimlessly around his apartment, collecting odds and ends – a frying pan, toothbrush, razor, some magazines, a throw rug Kirsten had brought on her first visit in mid-July. Evidently Seth had told such horrifying tales of Ryan’s apartment that she felt obligated to initiate an emergency redecoration. Ryan killed the idea pretty quickly, though, by claiming there was no point in spending time and money on a space he’d only be living in a few months. Kirsten was still skeptical, but then he promised she could help him pick out things for his dorm room, and she reluctantly acquiesced.

When he’d tossed everything he wanted to keep into the milk crate that had doubled as his entertainment center, he settled into the down-trodden armchair for the last time, leaned back and closed his eyes.

Packing, he realized, was a lot easier when you had so little you cared about taking with you.

There was a lesson there somewhere.

In his experience, however, _life_ was governed by the opposite rules; the less you had to anchor you – to hold on to – the harder it became to survive.

Of course, Ryan had only come to this realization upon two occasions – when he’d lost everything he loved, and when he’d given it all up.

As the steady pitter-patter of the rain lulled him into a calm, meditative state, Ryan found himself ruminating on the ghosts living in this apartment. Some were friendly, Casper-like phantoms, like the memories he had of holding Summer pressed against him, feeling the heat of her body seep through his clothes, smelling honeysuckle in her hair, watching her long eyelashes flutter against her cheeks as she slept.

He remembered Randy, Max and Buddy gathered around his tiny TV set to watch a Dodgers game, drinking beer and making dirty jokes and laughing so hard that one particularly cantankerous neighbor rapped on the wall and let go with a string of expletives that only served to send them into further convulsions of hilarity.

He remembered sitting up late one night with Sandy when he came to visit, talking about Summer, Seth, college, life, looking up to see understanding in his eyes, hearing the subtle shades of approval in his voice, feeling safe, comfortable, calm.

There were demons here, too, tricky devils that sometimes invaded his dreams or kept him awake at night. The look on Seth’s face right before he fled the apartment in embarrassment, the hurt and fear and anger shimmering in his deep brown eyes. The loneliness that sometimes permeated the room, enveloping Ryan like a cool, damp, sour-smelling blanket, leaving him feeling sore, sick, scared. Waking up after a night of desperate distractions, hungover and ashamed.

Waking up alone.

Ryan knew he’d always have a certain fondness for Buenaventura; he was grateful for the escape it had provided, the way it allowed him to blend into the multi-layered fabric of the town, the opportunity it gave him to channel his frustration into productivity and understand what it meant to be mostly self-sufficient.

But he wasn’t going to miss it when he left it behind.

When Ryan had loaded his bags into the Range Rover back in June, he’d been a man on the run – from temptation, guilt, shame, reality. He’d thought that if he ran, that if he just had enough time and distance, he could bring his world back into focus.

But as the month of June peeled away, the days blending into each other, he made a startling revelation.

The same people who blurred the lines of his reality, who made his vision fuzzy and distorted, who gave him emotional vertigo, were also the people who gave him clarity, who imposed logic on chaos, who constructed meaning out of the mixed up, messy miasma of experiences he called his life.

Like most revelations, however, this one proved elusive and evasive, and it took him most of the summer to really get it.

To understand that everything he’d wanted and needed had been there all along.

Ryan opened his eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath.

He was finally ready to go home.

 

Summer was fairly certain that if she spent any more time lounging by the pool in her bikini, she was going to start to sizzle like crisp, fatty bacon on a skillet. And yet she was still having a problem extricating herself from this spot. She had many hours of packing and organizing to do, at least two major shopping trips on her agenda, and a new yogilates tape just begging to be watched, but she felt like her body had sunken into some form of deep paralysis.

She could. Not. Move.

She was sure this had absolutely _nothing_ to do with the fact that Chino was coming home today. Okay, so maybe she was kind of, sort of, in a small way…insanely nervous about it. It didn’t make any sense at all, since she’d seen Chino, like, two days ago when she’d driven up to Ventura to crash his going away party thrown by his construction buddies. She’d walked into the bar to find a bunch of burly, broad-shouldered middle-aged guys in various stages of intoxication. And there, in the center of the crowd, was Ryan, laughing and blushing and looking gorgeous in a white t-shirt and jeans, his cheek smudged with a streak of dust undoubtedly leftover from his last day of working construction.

Then his gaze fell on her and his blue eyes lit up with that adorable child-like excitement he always greeted her with these days. It made her feel like a princess, and when he pushed his way through the mass of people and picked her up, lifted her off the floor and spun her around, she felt some of that excitement thrum through her, shimmying over her skin like satin. He leaned forward and kissed her, and suddenly they were making out in a room filled with construction guys hooting and hollering, but she didn’t care. And she could tell from the way he rubbed her back and pulled her tightly against him that he didn’t give a rat’s ass about them either. He didn’t see anything but her.

She’d never felt this way before. Summer hated sounding like she was quoting some dumbass Meg Ryan romantic comedy, but she knew it was the truth. Ryan was like an addiction, more potent than cocaine, more enticing than nicotine, more thrilling than X. And no matter how much time she spent with him, no matter how many times she made that trip to his hot, sticky, grotty apartment, no matter how many times they had sex – it was never enough.

She never got bored.

It wasn’t just the sex, either, though the sex was amazing – it was _Ryan_ , and his brooding, and his sarcastic, biting sense of humor, and his depth, and his sweet, tender kisses and the way he loved her all over, somehow.

Ryan understood something fundamental about Summer that Cohen never had – her abandonment issues. He knew she was mortally afraid of being left behind by people who claimed to love her, because her mother had taken off when she was little and her father was never around and her stepmonster spent all her time drunk or wasted, which was really just another way to ditch somebody. Even though Ryan had obviously been through worse – what with the getting beat up all the time and the revolving door of pseudo-father figures and the drugs and the drinking and the poverty – he never acted condescending or belittled her problems. Ryan knew everybody had their secret scars, and there was no point in comparing who had been cut the deepest.

Summer let out a little sigh, her eyes fluttering open.

She knew why this was scary. Because Ryan was coming home, and then they were going away to college, and then it would be _real_. They’d be a couple, dating, in a relationship.

Summer couldn’t help it. Any time she got attached to someone, she started to mentally list all the ways she could lose them. She’d already lost Ryan once, and she wasn’t sure she could do it again.

So she was just going to sit here, in this chair, and work on developing skin cancer, and everything would be fine and dandy as long as she didn’t move. Because as long as she didn’t move, nothing would change. Ever. Maybe she wouldn’t even age.

It was weird what kind of nonsense seemed completely rational in her head at times like this.

“Summer?”

She started at the voice, and she let her sunglasses slip down the bridge of her nose so she could see who’d called her name. Well, it was a current and past resident of the Cohen _maison_ – just not the one she was expecting.

“Hey, Cohen,” she said brightly.

“You look like you’re very busy,” he said, feigning being impressed. “Have you figured out how to pack telekinetically? Because I would totally pay you to teach me that.”

“Ha. Ha,” she said sarcastically. “I’m…taking a break. Before I start.”

“I see.” He nodded sagely. “Yes. You must prepare yourself sufficiently before you immerse yourself in the task at hand.”

“Exactly.” She settled back into the chair and adjusted her sunglasses so her eyes were shaded again.

“So I’ve come on a mission,” Seth continued. She could hear his voice falter a little, but he pressed on. “I know we haven’t…uh…hung out much lately, and I’m guessing that’s because of…”

“The awkwardness?” Summer interrupted helpfully.

“Yeah.” Seth let out a sighing breath. “That.”

There was an appropriately awkward silence before Seth tried again. “So…Ryan’s coming home today. And that means that inevitably, at some point, we’re all going to have to be in a room together. At least, I assume so, since you’ll be at CCA, doing that clothes thing – “

“Fashion design, Cohen,” Summer intoned. “It’s called fashion design.”

“…and Ryan and I are going to be roommates, or at least, I think we are. He hasn’t told me we’re not going to…” Seth trailed off, looking lost for a moment, then blinked several times and seemed to focus. “Anyway, the last time we were all in a room together, some…things were said. Not things that I want to take back, exactly, but maybe…maybe things that made you…not like me so much.”

Summer turned towards Seth, eyeing him carefully. “Why do you say that?”

Seth cocked his head to one side, wrinkling his forehead in confusion. “Well, Sum, I was…uh…kind of macking on your man.”

“You weren’t _macking_ on him, you were telling him how you feel about him. And I can’t say I wasn’t…uh…surprised about that, but I know you didn’t do or say what you did to hurt me. We’ve been over for almost a year now, and…” Summer sighed. “Maybe the better question is, ‘Are you angry at me?’”

“Now?” Seth shook his head emphatically. “Definitely not. Yeah, I have to admit I was angry when you guys first told me about what you’d been doing or whatever, but it wasn’t for any kind of rational reason…I was just, I don’t know, sad. Because you know how it is…you don’t realize what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone…”

“But you’ve still got Chino, Cohen,” Summer murmured. “He’s your best friend, and you’ll get past the weirdness. You’ll get past it because you…your friendship is really special. Deep.” Summer took off her sunglasses, wanting to look Seth in the eye. “He loves you. Like a friend, like a brother, whatever. And even when he’s scared, he…can’t just ditch the people he loves. Even when they…don’t make it easy for him.”

There was a pause as Seth processed this, and then his eyes filled with understanding. “Thank you…for saying that, Summer. Really. And I’m sorry to be all…I don’t know, over-dramatic about this or whatnot. I just felt like maybe I should do a pre-emptive strike or something – “

“No harm done, Cohen.” Summer gave him a warm smile. “It’s good to talk to you.”

“Friends?” Seth held out his hand, and Summer giggled.

“You know, I have to say, Cohen, that of all the things I thought we could fight about, this has to be the strangest.” Summer tilted her head to one side, and Seth looked down at his shoes, blushing slightly.

“What, you never thought we’d fall for the same guy?” Seth cracked, giving her that adorable smile that always made her want to smile too.

“Not so much,” Summer said. “But I guess it’s good to know you have excellent taste.”

Seth’s smile widened. “Well, it _is_ Ryan,” he said in the same way that Ryan used to say _I live in a poolhouse_. Like it explained everything.

“Yeah,” Summer said with a laugh. “It is Ryan.”

He stood up, digging his hands into his pocket and hunching his shoulders. “So I’m sure I’ll see you around,” he mumbled.

She stood up too, reaching over to tilt his chin up with one finger, his chocolate brown eyes meeting her own. “I’m sure you will,” she said softly.

 

Ryan slammed the door of the Rover shut, hoisting a bag over his shoulder, clasping the other in his other hand, arm muscles pulled taut. The Cohen mansion loomed in front of him, huge and beautiful and impossible and amazing. He felt a little like he had when he first saw this house, when Sandy drove up the driveway in the BMW. In that moment it felt like someone had pressed fast-forward on the tape of his life, and he went from having nothing at all to having everything he ever could have wanted in seconds.

He’d never really gotten used to living here, in Newport, in this house. That’s why it surprised him how good it felt to be standing in front of it again.

How amazing it felt to be home.

“Ryan!” A shrieking Kirsten flew out of the front door, launching herself at him and pulling him into a tight embrace, forcing him to drop his bags so as not to topple over. “You’re home!” She pulled back to look at him. “Sandy, Ryan’s home!” she yelled in the direction of the house. “You look wonderful, sweetie. You’ve been eating?”

Ryan smiled, and was about to make up something about the gourmet meals he’d prepared for himself every night when Sandy appeared, throwing an arm around his shoulders. “Good to have you back, kid. Even if it’s only for a few days.” Ryan noticed how Kirsten’s face crumpled, and he felt badly, even though he knew some part of her wanted them to go. Sandy leaned over to give his wife a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry, hon. They’ll be back. Probably sooner than we expected. You think Ryan and Seth can handle that northern California weather?”

“Thanks, dad,” Ryan heard Seth remark dryly from the doorway. “Your vote of confidence is just what we need, being two college freshmen embarking on the bewildering quest known as higher education.”

Ryan smiled. “You know it was _raining_ on the way back?” He told Seth, his voice filled with false trepidation.

“Raining? Be still my heart!” Seth exclaimed. “How could you drive in that? Did you have to pull over and wait for the storm to stop? Did it delay you? Did you skid and slide into a ditch? Were small animals killed or maimed?”

“And…they’re back!” Sandy declared with some satisfaction. “The Cohen-Atwood comedy team, reunited once more…”

“Hey, man,” Seth said, ignoring his father. He held out a hand. Ryan grasped it firmly. “It’s good to have you – whoa, okay.”

Ryan had pulled him forward into a hug. “Good to see you, too, Seth,” he whispered, and he could feel Seth relax into the friendly embrace.

When they separated Ryan could see something flicker across Seth’s eyes – maybe acceptance? He wasn’t quite sure.

But he knew it was a good thing.

“Want to take those out to the poolhouse?” Seth said. “I assumed you’d just want to keep packing, right? You should see my room, dude. I swear that the POTUS just held a press conference and declared it a national disaster area, man. Seriously. It _is_ that bad.”

“It is,” Sandy agreed, and Kirsten made a face.

“I believe you,” Ryan said.

“You should. It is an ugly, ugly situation. Do you know that I have a bubblegum collection from the baseball cards I collected when I was, like, six? It’s crazy. I think that if I keep digging through that room I might find the lost city of Atlantis. Or maybe that wardrobe that opens into Narnia. I don’t know. But that would be cool, huh?”

Ryan shook his head, laughing, and followed Seth inside.

“Well, if I find Middle Earth, I’ll make sure to bring one of those elf girls. ‘Cause they were _hot_. And immortal. But not a hobbit. No, definitely not a hobbit. Hobbits piss me off. They’re very smug, don’t you think?”

 

When Ryan finally made it out to the poolhouse after being interrogated by each member of the Cohen family in turn, he felt like the bed was calling his name. He dropped his bags unceremoniously in a corner of the room and collapsed onto the soft mattress. Wow, a bed that was actually a bed! Like, with springs and everything. What a novelty.

He closed his eyes and sunk deeper into the cushiony surface, feeling the tension drain off his body, leaving him feeling heavy, pliable.

 _“Atwood, you crazy? It’s your last day. You didn’t think we were gonna throw you a party?” Buddy winked at him, then shoved him through the open door of the bar._

 _Max slung his arm around Ryan’s shoulders. “So you’re leaving us, Newport?”_

 _Ryan nodded. “Think you’ll survive without me?”_

 _Max clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ll make do somehow. You headed up to college, right? Up in San Francisco?”_

 _“Berkeley,” Ryan corrected. “And yes.”_

 _Max wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “You taking that girl of yours with you?”_

 _“Man, Atwood, I tell ya,” Randy piped up, a little too loudly. “That girlfriend you got is…mmm…” He licked his lips. “Break me off a piece of –“_

 _“Damn, Randy, that girl is young enough to be your daughter, you perv,” Buddy snapped._

 _“But she’s not my daughter, is she?” Randy drawled._

 _Ryan wrinkled his nose. He knew they were messing around – if any of them were serious about trying to hit on Summer then he’d most definitely get violent, but he knew they just enjoyed fucking with him, making him blush._

 _Hell, he knew Summer was sexy as hell. Couldn’t blame other guys for looking._

 _And it helped his state of mind that now he knew in no uncertain terms that she was his, and only his._

 _“All I’m saying,” Randy continued, “is that I can understand why Atwood might be willing to write a few papers if it means he can keep tapping that ass – “_

 _“Randy!” Max smacked his friend upside the head. “Stop your drooling and concentrate on not being a jackass for ten minutes. This is Atwood’s party, for Chrissakes.”_

 _Randy looked chagrined. Ryan shot him an easy smile, just to let him know he wasn’t upset. Very little could upset him right now. He had money in his pocket and this weekend he was headed home to his family and the most beautiful woman on earth._

 _His family. His girl._

 _Yeah, life was good._

 _But then he looked up, and life instantly got a hell of a lot better._

 _Summer stood in the doorway of the bar, looking at him, her eyes a smokey black in the dim light. He held her gaze for only a few seconds before he began making his way over to her, shoving past his friends. He caught her up in his arms and spun her around, and in place of a “hello” or a “what are you doing here?” he pressed his lips to hers, speaking in the language they both knew best._

 _He could hear Randy’s raucous, rude laughter, and Max telling him to shut the hell up, you dick, and Buddy saying something like Look at Atwood, a regular Cassanova. But even though he could hear all of that, and more, it only registered as background noise, static. What he heard more clearly was Summer’s light breathing against his cheek, the rustle of the fabric of her skirt against his jeans, the quiet scratching of her fingernails over the back of his shirt as they flickered over his spine._

 _And he heard her voice, even though she wasn’t saying anything; he heard her voice inside his head, sweet and strained:_

 _  
**When we’re together everything makes sense. All the pieces are in place.**   
_

_And he understood._

“Chino? You here?”

Ryan blinked his eyes open, squinting in the darkness. He hadn’t had the energy to turn on the light. “Summer?”

“You asleep, baby?” He could hear her moving around near the door, probably searching for a light switch. Sure enough, a lamp clicked on a moment later, bathing the room in soft, warm light.

Summer was dressed sensibly for the August heat in a short red skirt and a shimmery off-white strapless top, her only jewelry a simple silver chain and tiny diamond earrings in her ears. Her dark hair fell in soft waves over her tan shoulders, and she wore the slightest hint of kohl eyeliner and a deep red lipstick that matched her skirt.

Her lips tilted upward into a slow smile that sent shivers of lust up Ryan’s spine. It took her only a few seconds to hop onto the bed, crawl over to him and drape her body over his, her curves aligning with the sharp angles of his body easily. “The Cohens know you’re here?” he said, slurring his words slightly. His head felt hazy with heat and sleep and want.

“I paid my respects.” She traced her pinkie finger along his jaw, then slipped it between his lips. “They said you were here. They didn’t give me any advice on what to do with you when I found you.”

Ryan brushed his tongue over her fingertip, holding her gaze steadily as his heartbeat increased. “So what do you want to do…with me…” he murmured.

“I don’t know. You have any summer reading to do?” she asked as one hand took a journey down his chest, unbuttoning his collared shirt with practiced ease. “Any Dostoevsky, maybe?”

“I might be able to dig something – “ his breath hitched as her hand slipped under his shirt, caressing the sensitive skin of his stomach. “ – up…”

Summer leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then one to his chin and his cheek, carefully avoiding his lips even as he angled his head in an effort to capture her lips. “I think maybe I like this better…” Summer said, her voice low and just the slightest bit rough – enough to make Ryan lose his flimsy grasp on his self-control. He growled against her cheek, flipping her over so she was beneath him, holding her hands above her head as he lowered his lips to hers for a searing kiss. She gasped as his tongue found her pulse point while one hand glided over her abdomen to gently cup one full breast.

It clearly took all of Summer’s restraint to pull away, to grasp his wandering hands in her own. “Chino,” she said softly, “I need to ask you something…”

Ryan pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers, nervous and wary. “What’s up?”

“I just…I need to know…” she stammered, “that if I stay tonight I won’t wake up and find you gone again.”

Ryan felt a lump form in his throat as he gazed into her deep brown eyes, so lovely and sad. “I…” He swallowed. “Summer, I’m here now…”

“I know you’re here now,” she whispered. “I need to know if you’re going to be here from now on.”

He tilted his head to one side, trying desperately to collect his thoughts as they raced around at an alarming speed. “I want to be…I want to be wherever you are.”

“But what you want and what actually happens – “ Summer began.

“Summer, I’ll be here,” he said, a little louder and more firmly. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Good to know,” she said, her lips curving into a small smile. “’Cause a girl like me shouldn’t have to wake up alone.”

She ran a hand through his hair, ruffling it affectionately. “Oh, but you’re wrong,” he muttered. “You’re wrong.”

She arched an offended eyebrow.

“There are no girls like you, Summer,” he said softly.

“Damn right,” she affirmed with a quick, decisive nod.

“And thank the lord for that…” Ryan continued, his blue eyes dancing with laughter.

Angry, unintelligible shouts, followed by sweet, mingled laughter drifted out of the poolhouse, permeating the thick humidity of the late summer night air.


End file.
